


in the morning, pale and blue

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, F/F, Funerals, Nature, a bit of angst, a bit of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s nice, Morrgian decides. It always is when she’s with Tabris. But moments like this one, just them alone together with no one but the forest to witness it - this is what she cherishes the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the morning, pale and blue

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for "bury me amid nature’s beauty" and "delicate pleasures" for Morrigan/Tabris.

“You know, it’s not like we didn’t have trees in the alienage.” It sounds like an explanation, almost defensive. “Well, just the one, really. But it was a big one.”

Morrigan opens one eye and looks up at Tabris. With her head in Tabris’ lap she can only really see her chin but even that manages to look defiant. “One whole tree? Impressive.” She cannot help but tease a little bit and is immediately punished by Tabris tugging her hair with a little bit more force than necessary. “Ouch.” 

“You deserved it,” Tabris says and goes back to gently running her fingers through Morrigan’s hair. “Making fun of the poor unfortunate elves of the alienage. Shame on you.” But there is a smile tugging at the corner of her lips and Morrigan closes her eyes, content for the moment. 

“There were always lanterns burning high up in the vhenadahl. And brightly colored scarves tied around its branches.” Tabris’ voice is as soothing as her fingers and Morrigan makes a pleased humming sound deep in her chest. “On special occasions, like Satinalia, they’d sometimes put up these magic dancing lights that lit up the whole square.” 

“You had mages in the alienage?”

“At times. They’d move on after a while or get taken away by Templars if they weren’t careful enough.” 

“I imagine putting up dancing lights in a public square didn’t count as being very careful.” 

She feels Tabris’ laughter more than she hears it. “I guess not.” 

It’s nice, Morrgian decides. It always is when she’s with Tabris. But moments like this one, just them alone together with no one but the forest to witness it - this is what she cherishes the most. 

“They say the Dalish don’t burn their dead but bury them and plant a tree over their graves,” Tabris says, her tone light. “Do you think that’s true?” 

Morrigan opens her eyes. “It is.” And then because Tabris will still not look at her, “What makes you think of this?” 

“I don’t know.” Tabris turns her head and smiles. “I think it’d be nice to be buried here. Amid the flowers and trees and all that.” 

There is a familiar knot of irritation in her stomach but Morrigan pushes it aside. “This morning you woke me with your screams because a bug had crawled into your bedroll.” 

“I wouldn’t mind the bugs if I were dead, now would I?” 

Morrigan doesn’t like where this conversation has drifted, because she knows that nothing ever drifts with Tabris. It’s steered, carefully planned and followed through with purpose. She reaches up and brushes her fingers against Tabris’ jaw. 

There is no point to this, she wants to say. Because you won’t die. I won’t let you. 

But that is just as ridiculous. She knows exactly how Tabris would look at her. The kind of sadness she reserves for moments like this. They both do a pretty good job at ignoring the death that is already coursing through her veins, singing to her softly from the beyond.

If Morrigan could keep her alive by sheer power of will she would. 

“When one of the Chasind dies,” she says instead and runs her fingertips along the line of Tabris’ neck, “they are given back to the Wilds. For nature to reclaim their bodies. ‘Tis an old tradition. Older than the Chantry and her pyres.” She rests her hand on Tabris’ chest. “The Avaar have their sky burials. Their bodies laid out on the stones until their bones are picked clean and their soul is carried to the Lady of the Skies.” 

Tabris covers her hands with hers. “What do you believe?” 

“Does it matter?” 

A gentle squeeze, not quite a reprimand. “It does to me.” 

Morrigan sighs. “I think it’s nothing but flesh and bone. No better than the animals who retreat into the woods to die in peace. Everything that comes afterwards…” 

“Perhaps there is nothing afterwards.” 

“Perhaps.” 

There is a silence that follows in which Tabris raises Morrigan’s hand to press her lips against her fingers. Morrigan wants nothing more than to pull her down to be kissed properly - until she forgets the things that plague her. Because she knows where this line of thinking will lead eventually. Knows where Tabris means to steer this boat. 

Some things need to be said out loud, even if every word cuts through her like a knife.

“I would like it to be somewhere you could visit,” Tabris says and Morrigan closes her eyes against the pain. “It wouldn’t have to be a grave. Just somewhere you could go.” 

“What makes you think I’ll let you die before me?” 

When she opens her eyes, she finds the smile that she knew would come. “Morrigan…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” 

“Don’t…”

“I don’t want some blighted grave or memorial.” Anger sparks in her chest, hot and fresh and not entirely unexpected. “I want you.” 

“And you have me, don't you?” 

Morrigan wants to argue. Wants to wring a promise from Tabris that she knows she cannot keep. But Tabris just leans down and kisses her, finally. With her long hair falling like a curtain around them, there is nothing else for the moment. Just the press of Tabris’ lips on hers and her fingers trailing along the line of her jaw and the thoughts in her head blissfully quiet for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Rosemary & Garlic's song "I'll Come To You". 
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


End file.
